Merlin's Birthday Surprise
by seamstress Javert
Summary: Arthur and the Knights, in their Quest to throw Merlin a birthday celebration never seen by the likes of Camelot, must work quickly to fix the terrible tragedy that ensues.
1. Chapter 1

**Merlin's Birthday Surprise**

**Hi all! Seamstress Javert here, posting my very first story. I've lurked for ages, reading all these great fanfics and finally decided to write one of my own. I hope you enjoy and review with lots of advice! **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing here, but oh, how I wish I did. **

**Chapter One**

It dawned a beautiful day in Camelot, the sun rising tenderly from behind the distant hills, birds heralding the arrival of a new day. Yes, a new day in Camelot, that vast and peaceful kingdom, ruled over by a handsome and wise king, protected from dangers by her brave and valiant knights, the very highest exemplars of wisdom and honour and courage—

'GWAINE! I will have your head, you drunken, idiotic, blasted excuse for a knight!'

Alas, the delicate beauty of the dewy morning mutated swiftly into a scene of chaos and fury, as a roguishly handsome devil and his knight companion of wavy golden locks burst into the courtyard. Several birds pecking at their breakfast trampled each other in their haste to avoid the heavy boot soles of Sirs Gwaine and Leon, which were covered in Kilgarrah-knows-what.

'Relax, Leon!' Gwaine yelled over his shoulder, escaping the furious Leon who was not, as he should be, the cool, composed second-in-command of Arthur's knights. Nay, he was more like a golden-haired Keeper of the Tavern, cursing skilfully, arms akimbo, and legs in all directions. 'Merlin'll never know till it's too late!'

'Merlin'll never know what?' A sleepy, confused voice broke in. Leon froze and silently damned Gwaine to the lowest circle of Hell. Gwaine, for his part, let loose with an enormous grin and grabbed his skinny-manservant-best-mate in an equally enormous bear hug. 'Merlin! The man of the hour! It's your birthday tomorrow, you little wench!'

The full force of Gwaine's bear hug knocked the air out of Merlin; rubbing his chest, he beamed at Gwaine. 'Which reminds me, Arthur hasn't given me the night off tomorrow, but I was going to go down to the tavern to celebrate, if you'd all like to come.'

Gwaine's answer was assumed beforehand to be 'yes', considering it involved two of his favourite things: ale and Merlin, while Leon confirmed on behalf of the knights.

'Great!' Merlin beamed again. 'But what were you guys talking about before? About me not knowing something before it's too late.'

Gwaine, still suffering from the effects of a very, very, _very _late night, had barely opened his mouth before Leon simultaneously clapped a hand over it and inserted his other into Gwaine's stomach, laughing nervously all the while. 'Oh, _nothing_, really, Merlin. We were just talking about how it wouldn't be great if _Gwaine _here, ah…if Gwaine here were to disrupt you from hanging up your clothes so you wouldn't know till it's too late oh look at the _time_! Gotta run, Merlin, c'mon Gwaine, we need to go, er…practice.' Leon gave Merlin a smile (_though somewhat strained_, Merlin thought) and dragged Gwaine away, hand still over the other knight's mouth. Merlin was left in bewilderment at Leon's completely nonsensical explanation, until an earth-shattering roar sent the birds scurrying over each other for the second time that morning.

'MER_LIN! WHERE'S MY BREAKFAST!' _

**End Chapter One **

**First chapter done! Thanks for reading and please review! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi all! Thank you to Tagrea for being my first reviewer! For this chapter, I've taken liberties with the time it would take to travel from place to place, so it may seem a bit out of joint. **

**Disclaimer: As usual, I don't own anything except for longing ;) **

**Chapter Two **

'_What _did Gwaine do again?' Lancelot groaned, for once losing his knightly composure.

'He sent messengers to Ealdor whilst in a drunken haze thus losing all control of what he was saying, the end result being that Merlin's mother will arrive earlier than we have prepared for.' Leon said in a monotone, staring at the tapestry on Lancelot's wall. This was a _disaster._ How on earth were they supposed to give Merlin an appropriate birthday surprise if other people insisted on misplacing their faculties at completely the wrong time?

'It won't be as bad as that, now.' Elyan tried to comfort the distraught knights. 'When did Gwaine send the messengers?' 'Yesterday afternoon,' Leon sighed. 'This means that Hunith will be here by nightfall, considering the messengers were instructed to collect her 'with all necessary speed'.'

'There's no problem in that. We'll just have to make sure she doesn't enter the castle. Hunith can stay at Gwen's for the night.'

'Yes, I suppose so,' Lancelot said glumly from his corner. 'Although the idea _was _to have Hunith ride triumphantly through the castle gates _tomorrow_ surrounded by the Camelot knights, bearing a 'Happy Birthday, Merlin' banner, while Merlin watches in amazement from the castle steps.'

'And don't forget the players in the throne room,' Leon mumbled sadly. 'With jugglers and dancers and animals.' They looked so miserable that for a moment Elyan wondered if his friends had been replaced by children who'd just been told they couldn't go set Daddy's beard on fire (Gwen's idea, not his). 'Ah, guys? We can still do all that. We just have to keep Merlin busy for the morning while we set everything up.'

'Hunith was also meant to bake Merlin a special cake. The cook gave her specific permission to use the kitchen at mid-morning. _How _will she ever get into the kitchen now if Merlin will be there at the same time getting Arthur's breakfast?'

_Make Arthur eat earlier, _Elyan thought. He shook his head. 'Cheer up, knights! We'll manage this, problems or no. If it's for Merlin, we'll manage and make it a day to remember!' Elyan's pep talk had the magic effect of setting a small smile onto Sir Leon's face, and even Lancelot looked a bit happier. A spectacular snort from Gwaine, who'd been passed out unconscious (from sleep deprivation, considering last night's activities) on Lancelot's bed, ruined the rather inspirational moment. The roguish knight yawned and sat up, stretching his arms out. 'What'd I miss?'

'We were figuring out how to solve the problem of Hunith's early arrival.' Lancelot said. 'Oh, yeah. Sorry about that, mate. Funny what eleven flagons of mead can do to your tongue!' Gwaine wrinkled his nose, opened his eyes wide and flipped his hair all at the same time, looking so Gwaine-like that none of the knights could stay irritated for long. Laughter filled Lancelot's chambers as they waited with anticipation the day that was to follow.

That night, while Arthur kept Merlin busy with chores befitting of the King's manservant—scrubbing his floor, cleaning out his fireplace, changing the sheets, giving Arthur a shoulder massage ('_for crying out loud, Merlin, do you have any concept of human bone structure at all? Last time I checked, hitting my shoulders with a hammer does not have any good effect whatsoever, clot-pole!' 'I barely touched you! Isn't the mighty King Arthur meant to be able to take a little pain, or as you put it last time, 'being punched in the face by a feather would cause more pain than _you, Mer_lin.' And clot-pole is _my _word, go find your own.' '_Mer_lin, I'm the King and anything I want is mine.')_—Percival, Leon and Gwaine waited for Hunith by the castle gates.

'Where is she?' Leon wondered when two hours had passed. 'She should be here by now.' 'Perhaps they did not leave till late. We should wait a bit longer,' Percival replied quietly. When another hour passed and there was still no sign of Merlin's mother or the messengers, the knights began to worry. Gwaine paced to and fro, frowning. His instincts, hypersensitive from long days on the road with hardly a break towards civilisation, did not like this at all.

'It's nearly midnight,' Leon said. They'd been waiting for almost five hours and no-one had come through the gates. 'Something must have happened; the messengers would have sent word if they were not leaving till tonight or tomorrow.' Gwaine nodded grimly, and Percival was about to speak when the sound of hooves came thundering over the cobblestone.

It was the night patrol, and in their arms they bore a bloody body.

**End Chapter Two **

**Thanks for reading, folks! I hope it wasn't too slow moving, or the dialogue awkward. As usual, reviews and critiques are extremely welcome! **


	3. Chapter 3

**I am completely blown away from the great responses I've gotten. Thank you **_**so **_**much for taking the time to read **_**and **_**review my story, offering lovely comments and insightful help. It's the greatest encouragement to see people engaging with your story! **

**Disclaimer: Nada, zilch, is mine.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Three <strong>

'Merlin, would you please minimize that humming noise and get me some more ink and parchment. I cannot concentrate with that incessant babble in the background.' Arthur sniped, glaring at his useless servant who was currently clearing up the table. But really, on the inside, he was like a little boy full of glee. _Tomorrow, _he laughed inwardly. Tomorrow Merlin would be blown away by his birthday surprise, and Arthur could hardly wait to see his reaction.

When the knights had come to him with suggestions for Merlin's birthday celebration, Arthur had been completely lost. They'd never celebrated Merlin's birthday; sure, he'd give Merlin less chores, but nothing _celebratory_. To his knowledge, Gaius and Gwen took care of these aspects, which usually meant Gwen pinching an extra-large ham from the kitchens and Gaius giving Merlin some presents. So when the knights had raised the desire to 'really make a racket of it'—well, Gwaine had phrased it like that—Arthur had been ready to let them take care of it all. 'Just tell me what you want to do, and I'll sign off on it,' he'd said, and suddenly there were bills for players and jugglers and dancing animals and a request for the loan of the throne room. Arthur had readily given his permission, because while this sort of thing was out of the ordinary -Uther was certainly not the sort to give a celebration befitting a prince in honour of a servant- it was _Merlin_ they were talking about here. Lovely, kind Merlin (though Arthur would not admit that to his face) who really did deserve a break every now and then, although the clumsy idiot certainly didn't shy away from slacking off on his duties on a regular basis. Besides, he didn't fancy having to train five rather deadly, moody knights who hadn't gotten their way.

Then one day, Gwaine had raised the suggestion of bringing Merlin's mother to Camelot for the occasion. It had been a brilliant suggestion, one that Merlin would value over anything else they could have given him, and for a moment, Arthur wondered if he was a terrible friend because instead of thinking up of wonderful (although again, that would never be admitted) ideas like Gwaine, he'd let his knights and Gwen do all the work. But then Merlin had bumbled into Arthur's chambers with his brilliant smile and it reminded Arthur that Merlin had stuck by him all these years, that even when he could've stayed in Ealdor, he'd chosen to remain by Arthur's side. So, Arthur had thought to himself, he couldn't be that terrible of a friend because Merlin was hardly the type to let other people push him around.

A plate crashing to the ground jerked him out of his musings. 'Sorry,' Merlin laughed sheepishly. 'Slipped away, the sneaky thing!'

Arthur rolled his eyes affectionately. 'Clean it up, Merlin, before you go.' Merlin's delighted grin lit up the dim room. 'An early night? Arthur, you haven't given me one of those since…oh wait, you've _never _let me off early.'

'Excuse me, _Mer_lin, but that one time when you were dying from that poisoned cup I let you have a whole week off.' Arthur retorted. 'Oh yes, I forgot, your Majesty, how _gracious—'_

The warning bells tolling cut into Merlin's sentence. 'What on earth?' Arthur leaped to his feet and strode outside, Merlin close behind. There were the sounds of urgent shouts for the physician and the king in the main courtyard. Merlin was surprised to see all of Arthur's knights gathered around something lying on the ground. It looked like a body; no, it _was _a body, covered in blood and barely moving.

'Merlin, get back,' Lancelot had seen him and tried to lead him away, but Merlin frowned. 'Why? Who's that?' 'Nothing, it's alright. Just get inside, alright? Get inside, and—and find Gaius.' Merlin still resisted, curious as to why Lancelot was trying to move him; he was the physician's apprentice, shouldn't he be present? Gaius was approaching, anyway.

Then all of a sudden, he caught a glimpse of something old and worn and suspiciously familiar where the body was. Was it? No, it couldn't be, he told himself. Why on earth would it be in Camelot, of all places? No—

The bright light from a dozen torches being lit threw the scene into sharp relief. Merlin's eyes widened and everything flew away from him. Deaf to Lancelot's cries of '_don't, Merlin!'_ he tore out of the knight's grip and towards the body, a silent scream of agony propelling him to his knees. _Oh god, oh god, oh god. _

**End Chapter Three**

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading! (and I've finally discovered the 'insert horizontal line' in editor, hurrah!)<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with **_**Merlin**_**. Damn.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Four <strong>

'Mother!' Merlin screamed, his heart pounding so wildly it might exit his body altogether. His trembling hands shoved the knights away and grasped onto the torn, bloody shawl that belonged to his mother.

'Get him away,' Arthur muttered to Lancelot, dread filling his own heart. Something awful had befallen Merlin's mother. Lancelot nodded, and again took hold of Merlin's shoulders. 'Come, my friend. We need to let Gaius do his work.' Merlin looked up at Lancelot, eyes wide and frightened. 'Why does he have my mother's shawl?'

A cough from Arthur stopped Lancelot mid-reply. The king shook his head and mouthed, _later. _Yes, later. Later, when Merlin was calmer and not about to faint from the shock of seeing a palace messenger bleeding out on the ground, clutching Hunith's shawl.

Merlin didn't leave easily, but when Lancelot and Percival had wrestled him away from the scene, Arthur snapped into action. 'Gwaine, is this the messenger you sent yesterday?' There was a shocked nod from the other knight. 'Gaius, can you stabilise him?'

'He's seriously injured, sire. I need to operate on him right away.' Gaius' face was lined and drawn more than usual, his worry for Hunith and Merlin clouding his features. 'I need to ask him what happened,' Arthur said. 'Then you can operate.' 'Sire, he may not last that long, he's in serious-'

A strangled moan from the messenger cut them off. Blood bubbled from the corner of Olrick's mouth as he tried to speak. Arthur bent down to hear the dying man's words. 'Sire,' he gasped, pained breaths drawing out the syllables. 'Cenred's—attacked—woman—took her—tried—save her—tried—' His last breath expelled in an agonized rasping groan, and Olrick died. Blood crept slowly into the cobblestone.

It was silent in the courtyard when the groan faded into the night. 'He did not speak of the other messenger,' Leon observed quietly. Arthur looked up. 'Send a patrol out ahead. We will follow in the morning. Hunith may still be alive, and we can only assume she is being taken back to Cenred's kingdom.' Leon bowed and strode away.

'Sire,' a gravelly voice said at his elbow. 'I should like to check on Merlin now, but Olrick should be moved to my chambers. Perhaps his body will tell us something of what fate has befallen Merlin's mother.' 'Of course, Gaius. Please, go ahead to Merlin.'

When the courtyard had cleared, a heavy sigh escaped Arthur. He felt completely responsible; if Hunith was dead, Arthur knew he would not be able to live with himself.

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><p>'Cendred's men must have seen her escorted by palace guards bearing the Pendragon crest and assumed she was a royal acquaintance. Even more so, if she was wearing that new dress Gwen made.' Elyan said. They were headed towards Gaius' chambers to see Merlin.<p>

It was a sombre scene outside Merlin's small room. Percival was helping Gaius move Olrick's body onto its back, the bear-like man a useful assistant in matters such as these. He looked at the knights entering quietly. 'Lancelot is with Merlin.' 'How is he?' asked Gwaine. 'Not well,' was the grave answer.

Merlin was in fact curled up in the foetal position on his bed, Hunith's shawl clutched to his chest. The old familiarity of the soft, worn wool felt like he was holding his childhood again, until Merlin remembered that it was covered in blood. His mother's soft, comforting scent was polluted by the sickly sweet smell of blood. Lancelot sat by his side, a gentle hand resting on the bony back.

'Why did a palace messenger have my mother's shawl?' Merlin asked again, his voice thick with tears. Lancelot did not know to explain to Merlin that it had been their doing that caused Hunith this tragedy. 'Lancelot?'

'Because—' Lancelot hesitated. But there was no point in delaying the explanation. All must be explained before further damage was done. 'We had wanted to bring Hunith to Camelot for your birthday, as a surprise. But she was meant to have an escort of knights, not messengers. There was a misunderstanding of the situation.' Merlin's sharp intake of breath drew him up short. 'I am so sorry, Merlin. It is our fault you are in this position now.'

'I don't want a birthday, Lancelot. I just want my mother to be safe.' Merlin gasped, tears running down his face. 'What if she's dead?'

And Lancelot found he had no answer, because the honest knight could not bring himself to lend Merlin false hope. Merlin, hearing only silence, shifted away from Lancelot's comforting hand and wept into the soft, stained shawl.

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><p>The next morning, two neat columns of red thundered out of the castle gates, led by a grim- faced king. Beside him rode a small, pale boy with a newly washed shawl in his saddlebag and the desperate wish that it was not his birthday.<p>

**End Chapter Four **

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><p><strong> that's another chapter, <strong>**folks! I hope it's not moving along too slowly; I promise there'll be some action very soon. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you again for all the lovely reviews! Tagrea, I'm glad this provided a more entertaining way to spend time than math :) I'm going to try to make the chapters longer now; I made up the first few chapters as I went along, but now I know exactly where I will go with the plot so it will be a lot more organised. Again, thank you for sticking by this story! **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing in **_**Merlin**_**.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

"I couldn't get him to stay behind,' Arthur muttered to Lancelot, looking at Merlin who was squatting, head bowed, stirring the stew. He'd tried to get the manservant to remain in Camelot, not wanting Merlin to have to face the horrors that had taken his mother. But true to form, the stubborn man had insisted on accompanying the knights and even resuming his usual duties. He'd shown up at Arthur's chambers that morning, on time, and begun to pack his master's things without question. A quiet joke had even been cracked, although Arthur could feel the tension in the air. Merlin had shown no sign of anger towards him or the knights, as far as he could see, yet the king wondered if his friend did blame them. He wouldn't begrudge Merlin that right. The sight of those red-rimmed eyes made his heart ache with guilt. He wished they hadn't sent for Hunith. He wished they hadn't tried to make Merlin's birthday a big fuss, because this was the end result.

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><p>The morning had led them towards the Forest of Ascetir, the easy jocularity that usually accompanied this particular group of knights missing. The purpose of their mission had sobered them all, and not even Gwaine spoke a word out of turn. The cheerful knight was stewing in the same pool of guilt as Arthur as, if not even more so. He silently cursed himself for becoming so drunk he'd completely lost control and put Merlin's mother in danger. <em>I deserve my tongue cut out, <em>Gwaine thought miserably. He'd endangered his best friend's mother, and now he wondered if Merlin would ever forgive him. The kindly boy had shown no outwards sign of anger, even greeting Gwaine with a small smile in the morning, but he knew Merlin was furious. How could he not be, when Gwaine had acted with such idiocy, and with such dreadful consequence?

_No, _thought Gwaine determinedly. _I can't let this happen to Merlin. Whatever it takes, I will find his mother and make it right._

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><p>Merlin hardly noticed what he was doing; habitual repetition moving his arms mechanically as he stirred the stew and poked the fire. Around him, he could hear the noise of the men attending to various duties; collecting firewood, sharpening weapons and feeding and watering the horses. The last was usually his job, but Leon had stopped him on the way and quietly took the bucket out of his hand. Merlin was grateful for the consideration, but it set him slightly on edge. Everyone on this mission knew the stakes; they knew the importance and it showed through in their actions. The level of noise that morning had been about a tenth of what it usually was, the knights quiet (even Gwaine) and tentative. It irritated Merlin, because wasn't the fact that his mother was missing and possibly dead already enough of an irregularity? Merlin wasn't a man who liked routine, but now he longed for it. He longed for the knights to crack a joke and for Arthur to call him a fool and Gwaine to do stupid things like put his hand in hollowed trees. He longed for them to come demanding stew, instead of waiting silently for him to serve it and demand no more. Merlin wanted normalcy, because it kept alive in him the hope that his mother was still alive.<p>

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><p>'I will wash the dishes, Merlin. You go rest, now,' Lancelot said, arms reaching out to take the armful of plates from Merlin. 'No, it's alright, I got it,' Merlin ducked out of the way and headed for the river. <em>Normalcy, <em>Merlin thought. _Please, just give me normalcy. _

Lancelot watched him go, hunched over the huge stack of dirty dishes. They'd all eaten lunch in silence, the weight of the task ahead putting a stopper on any thought that wasn't to do with rescuing Merlin's mother. But Merlin had hardly sat down, walking round the circle of knights again and again offering more food, more water, a napkin? They could practically feel the tension radiating off the skinny boy, and it upset them, because Merlin wasn't meant for these types of emotions. Lancelot especially longed for Merlin to be carefree; Merlin already had enough to deal with, with the weight of Camelot's destiny on his shoulders.

'Pack up, men; I want to reach Ascetir by nightfall.' Arthur ordered, sheathing his sword. The camp sprang to life, the continuation of the mission spurring them to work fast and hard. Within minutes, every man was astride his horse, ready to go.

They rode with speed, galloping whenever surroundings did not require silence and stealth. It was due to this haste that the knights almost passed a vital clue, if Gwaine's sharp eyes hadn't strayed to the left.

'Stop!' he shouted, and swung down from his mount. He'd seen something flash amongst the endless green of the forest, and sure enough, there was a long golden thread tangled in the bush ahead. He pulled it out, glittering mockingly in the afternoon sun.

'That's from Hunith's dress,' Elyan recognized. 'I remember because Gwen went nearly hysterical with the embroidery.' 'Sire, there are horse droppings this way,' Percival called from the right of the group. He poked the brownish lumps. 'They are only a day old.'

'They are definitely headed towards Cenred's kingdom,' Arthur said. 'Camelot lies the other way. We must hurry.' They remounted and resumed their breakneck speed.

_They made Mother a dress, _Merlin thought as they rode, his throat suddenly tight. _They went to all this effort to bring her here, even getting Gwen to make her a dress fit for a princess. _A large part of him swelled with gratitude and love for his friends; the bitter, usually dormant part of him snarled, _and if they hadn't gone to all this trouble, Mother wouldn't be in this position. Cenred's men must have seen her in such finery, with messengers from Camelot, and thought she was wealthy. _Immediately after that thought crossed his mind, Merlin flushed with shame. That was a terrible thing to think; he knew his friends had meant well. They did not ask for Hunith to be attacked. They acted with only the goodness in their hearts. Merlin could not blame them.

_And yet, _the bitter Merlin sniped again, _if Arthur and the knights had made sure Mother was properly escorted, this wouldn't have happened. _

**End Chapter Five**

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><p><strong>Chapter Five done and dusted! Please read and review; I'm so excited about what's to come later in this story that I'm so tempted just to skip straight ahead, haha. <strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi all! Once again, thank you to all my lovely reviewers, and thank you for all the alerts/favourites! I've made a decision to skip straight ahead to the action, as I'm boring myself writing all the lead-up scenes. Hopefully, it will be a seamless transition. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with BBC/Shine's **_**Merlin.**_

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><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

In hindsight, Arthur wished he'd insisted on a knight accompanying Merlin to gather firewood. They were in Cenred's territory now, and Cenred was a master of dirty tricks and surprises. But Merlin had muttered something about nonsense and normalcy and marched off, leaving behind a confused Arthur wondering what on earth Merlin was about.

Oh, how he regretted that now.

It hadn't taken any longer than fifteen minutes for Lancelot to come over, anxiety painted over his noble features. 'Arthur,' he'd said, 'Merlin should be back by now.' 'I know,' Arthur had replied.

They'd found the clearing where Merlin had stopped for wood to be deserted, no sign of the bright red and blue clothed servant in sight. In fact, the only signs that something had been disturbed were the tracks that pointed to the east. These tracks were so light and faint that they almost missed them, had it not started raining a while ago, water collecting in the indents.

'Who do we look for?' Elyan had muttered in despair to Percival. 'Merlin, or his mother?' Arthur, overhearing him, replied tersely, 'The tracks are headed east, the same way as Hunith probably is. We will follow on our original path and look for more clues.'

So onwards they rode again, filled with renewed tension and fury. These knights had felt responsible when Hunith had gone missing, but now they were filled with a raging hatred towards the foes that had taken Merlin. Leon, riding just abreast of Arthur, caught on his king's face a look of utter loathing mixed with despair; it was an unnatural sight on the young man's face. Leon himself had witnessed it very few times before, the last being when Uther had died and the old sorcerer missing. The knight shivered, and not from the grizzling rain.

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><p>There was darkness, and more darkness, no matter how hard Merlin tried to open his eyes. His lids felt heavy, like something had glued them shut. Giving up the futile attempt, he tried to focus his pounding head. <em>Where am I? <em>There were the gruff voices of men all around, but these were not the sounds of Arthur's knights. No; while Gwaine and Elyan could be crude at times, his friends were gentle and kindly. The men around Merlin now were loud and uncouth.

So he was in foreign territory. _Think, Merlin! _He urged his hazy mind. _What happened last? _It was too difficult to think through the cloud over his mind; only certain, useless details like the gold of the Pendragon crest and Gwaine's store of apples came back to him. Heaving a sigh that sent aches through his ribs—_ribs, bruised, possibly broken, _the physician's apprentice thought—Merlin switched his focus to the present situation. _C'mon, Merlin, what do you know about the present? _

He knew his ribs ached, that he was no longer with the knights or with Arthur but rather with rough strangers—_bandits?_ The ground was hard beneath his back, but it gave in some places through an experimental shifting of his aching body, yet it was also prickly in others. Merlin had camped enough to know that this particular texture of ground could only mean a forest. Depending on how long he'd been unconscious for, and how fast the strangers had been riding, Merlin concluded that he was probably still in the forest of Ascetir. Right, so he was in enemy clutches—_clearly, idiot_, he could hear Arthur state sarcastically. Great, now Arthur was in his head. _Alright, Prince Prat, how about this? I'm probably in Cenred's men's clutches. _

_Better, _Arthur approved. _Now, think some more. What can you hear? Smell? _Merlin head still pounded. _Too hard. Head not clear enough yet._ Arthur's amused voice shot back, _Well, you can polish all my armour and scrub the floor of the throne room when you get back, to _clear your head. Merlin was about to come up with a witty retort to the head-Arthur when a burst of pain exploded in his already sore side.

'Get up, you mangy piece of filth!' A coarse voice roared. Merlin winced. He still couldn't see, but oh god was he in pain and this man was shouting like a king in battle. 'Get up, I say!'

When another violent blow landed on the same spot, Merlin decided he really should get or else be pounded into wyvern fodder. But his hands and feet were bound—_why didn't I notice that before?—_so coordination was even more difficult than usual. 'You little shit, are you playing games with me?' The coarse man roared again and then Merlin was being dragged up by a hand painfully rooted in his hair.

'For God's sake, Feydor, if you beat him to pieces now the boy will be useless later!' A new voice called exasperatedly from Merlin's right. 'You just mind yer own damn prey!' The coarse man yelled back. _Prey? What the hell were they talking about? _Merlin thought, bewildered. 'I am minding them, but it's simply amusing watching you flounce about with that boy, _completely _not in control of this _very _amusing situation.' The new voice sniped back. This man sounded noble, Merlin realized. His inflections and pronunciation were not unlike Arthur's, though slightly rougher, like Gwaine.

The hand wrenching Merlin's hair off let go and Merlin dropped like a limp rag, legs too weak to support himself. 'You maggot, shut yer mouth!' There was the sound of a scuffle and Merlin wished he could see where he was because a scuffle could mean a chance for escape. But there was no possibility when yet another voice roared out, even louder than the coarse man, 'QUIET, YOU FILTHY VERMIN!'

Silence descended. The newest voice spoke again. 'Both of you maggots, get up and stay away from each other. Feydor, the boy is covered in blood and grime. How the hell do you expect us to sell him if he looks like something the dogs dragged home? _Get him clean, _now. The other patrol already lost one of their captives, d'you want us to be as incompetent as them?'

_Sell, _Merlin though frantically. _What?_

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><p>'Nothing, sire. No tracks.' Leon reported to an irate King, who exclaimed, 'How can there be no tracks? There must be <em>something. <em>They can't be ghosts, for God's sake!'

King Arthur's knights stood silently, aware that their leader was on a short fuse. Hell, everyone was; it had been a whole day since Merlin had gone missing, and the tracks had ended about an hour after they resumed their search. With no tracks to go on with, they had no clue where to go.

Arthur let out a low growl, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _Calmly now, _he thought. _You're the king. Your men—and _Merlin_—depend on you to lead. _But the truth was, Arthur was completely lost. He didn't know which way to go, led on by no tracks, no clues, _nothing. _He couldn't very well march into Cenred's castle and ask, _Have you taken my manservant and his mother? _

A rustling in the undergrowth jerked him out of his hopeless thoughts. Reflex saw him and the knights unsheathe their swords, the whisper of metal cutting through the still, forest air. Their harsh breaths belied the unwavering steadiness of their sword arms, pointing straight at the source of the sound.

Gwaine had been three seconds away from plunging his sword into the bloody figure that emerged had he not seen the Pendragon crest in time. 'Sire!' The bloody man wept, throwing himself at his king's feet, barely realizing how close he'd come to being skewered. 'Sire, thank God, the woman, they've taken her! I couldn't stop them, they killed Olrick, then they took me and the woman but I escaped but I couldn't get her free as well, _sire, _please forgive my failure!'

Arthur grabbed the hysterical man by the shoulders and shook him. '_Calm down. _I need you to calm down, Borrell. _Breathe. _In and out.' Still sobbing, Borrell continued to rush on, tripping over his words in his agitated state. A large hand passed over a water skin. 'Thank you, Percival.' Arthur took the skin and uncorked it, then gently grabbed Borrell's face in one hand. 'Drink.' Most of the water dribbled down the missing messenger's chin, but the little he did manage to swallow seemed to calm him somewhat.

'That's better,' Arthur said gently. 'Sit down, first, then tell me what happened.' They sat the distraught young man down on a log and Arthur crouched in front of him. 'Alright. What happened, Borrell? What happened to Olrick and Hunith?'

Borrell looked haunted, his eyes huge in his pale and bloody face. 'Th-they ambushed us,' he began, licking dry, cracked lips, 'when we were a few hours away from Ealdor. We couldn't even hear them coming, didn't know they were there! Silent…so silent.' He stared off into the distance, eyes telling the fear they must have felt towards these silent attackers. 'Someone dropped onto my horse from behind and they moved so quickly, I couldn't even get a glimpse before I fell unconscious. When I woke up, it was dark. At first I thought it must be night, but there was no fire, no stars, so it must have been a blindfold. My hands and feet were bound. I could them talking around me. Then one of them came and took my blindfold off. I thought maybe I could see them now, but they were dressed so dark they blended in with the night. There was no fire, only a burning torch. But I could see Hunith next to me. She was still unconscious, but she was bleeding from the head and her dress was torn. I don't—what if they raped—' Borrell broke off and looked around, frightened. The knights all looked grim, and the King—well, the king looked grim and incensed and sad all at the same time.

'Olrick,' Borrell suddenly blurted out. 'Olrick, he-he wasn't there! They must have killed him, oh God-'

Arthur interjected before Borrell could burst into another panic. 'Olrick made it back to Camelot alive. The night patrol found him.' 'So Olrick is alive?' Borrell cried, looking relieved. Arthur hesitated. 'No. He died soon after. His injuries were very serious.' Borrell looked as though he might burst into tears again, and Arthur didn't want to upset this distraught young man—_not even old enough to be a palace guard yet, still a messenger—_but time was of the essence and they desperately needed clues.

'How did you escape?' Borrell wiped his eyes and continued in an unsteady voice, 'They were a disagreeable lot, and two of them got into a huge argument. They got out their swords and everyone else was trying to stop them, so I tried to undo the ties on my feet. It took so long I thought I'd never manage, but then I remembered my brother had taught me a trick for getting out of restraints with my hands behind my back. They were fighting so badly I managed to slip away in the dark. They came after me, but not before I had time to hide in a deep tree hollow. I hid for hours, and they eventually gave up and rode away. Then I started turning back, hoping I would go in the right direction, and that's when you found me.'

'Did you hear anything, Borrell, that the men said? Anything at all that would be a clue to who they were or where they were going?' Arthur asked, trying not to let his frustration show through. _Merlin, _his inner voice screamed. _Where are you, you-you clot-pole! _Borrell frowned, the drying blood on his forehead cracking with the movement. One of the knights behind muttered, 'I'll go get some water, sire.'

'I remember they kept talking about their prey, or their capture. I guess that was me and Hunith.' 'Yes, but anything else? Did they sound like they worked for Cenred, were they bandits—' 'Oh, sire!' Borrell interrupted. 'They said something about _selling _their captured prizes, and whether they would make it to the market in time for the next auction!'

Arthur's heart grew cold. _Oh, God. _Behind him, several of the knights swore. They all knew what this meant, and who those men were. They knew Hunith's fate now.

She was to be sold as a slave.

**End Chapter Six**

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><p><strong>Hope you all enjoyed that! I would really appreciate some feedback on this chapter in regards to whether the plot leapjump worked well or not. Thank you all again for reading! **


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